


Broken

by Finksalion



Series: Fractured Crystal [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Explicit Language, Hair-pulling, M/M, Oral Sex, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Sadism, Self-Hatred, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:35:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27269587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finksalion/pseuds/Finksalion
Summary: SPOILER WARNING: This contains spoilers for 5.0 Shadowbringers Expansion - please don't read if you don't want to be spoiled!The Exarch is weak, and he cannot stop, no matter how much he would wish to, if that even is the case...CONTENT WARNING: This contains some pretty dark stuff, themes of sadism and self hatred. If that's not your thing or it may trigger you, then please don't read on and please look after yourself <3The lyrics used within this piece (and the title name) are taken from the song Broken by DNMO & Sub Urban.
Relationships: Crystal Exarch/Emet-Selch
Series: Fractured Crystal [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2013778
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Psst... hey you, yeah you... wanna join an amazing server full of inspiring and enabling peeps? Then come join us at Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched and Enabling Book Club - https://discord.gg/jcgKuYs

_I don't even want to watch it last, I just wanna bask in shattered glass  
Pick each fragment up one at a time, shards inside my skin_

_Want you to tell me that I'm broken…_

The Exarch breathed a deep and shaking breath, yearning want dripping from his voice like poisoned wine. He leant against the wall in the Ocular, refusing to look down for what he would find between his legs. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want _him_ , but he was weak – a dirty old man unable to resist the draws of the flesh, even if meant indulging them with this… this _man_ that was unfortunately attached to a smooth-talking and unbearably talented tongue.

As if _he_ was able to read the Exarch’s thoughts somehow, he twisted his tongue along the top of the Exarch’s straining shaft, long fingers on delicate hands reaching to cup and fondle his balls, before his tongue laved down the length of his cock. He sucked a ball into his mouth and suckled on it gently even as those interminably clever fingers wrapped around the Exarch’s cock and pumped a few times, causing the Exarch to pant aloud at the sensations.

Finally cursing himself and looking down, he roughly grabbed the brown hair with that alluring white streak in it, pulling the depraved and smirking Emperor’s face up so he could look into those golden eyes. All he could see was his own reflection in those mocking eyes, a face hidden by hood, thankfully unable to see the naked want in his twisted perverted expression.

“Do you wish me to continue, or would you prefer some other activity from me today?” Emet-Selch purred, taking his lips off the Exarch’s balls and licking back up his shaft before hovering his lips just at the tip, aching and swollen from his ministrations. The Exarch glared at him before twisting his hands in Emet-Selch’s silky hair, causing the Ascian to wince before he finally let go, slamming his hand hard into the wall even as he felt this cursed man’s mouth reach back to his throbbing cock.

“In the absence of polite conversation I’ll just continue then.” The Ascian murmured, another lick of that gloriously talented tongue causing the Exarch to roll his eyes back in his hood and gasp aloud, pained pleasure in his tone, as if he didn’t want to feel this way. Honestly, he didn’t want to feel this way, not here, not with him, and the very thought of it caused his bile to rise in self-hatred and disgust. 

“Curse you, Ascian.” He spat, and then groaned again as the Emperor continued with this delicious miserable torture.

“And yet you invite me back again and again, my dear Exarch. Somewhat contrary behaviour, wouldn’t you say?” Emet-Selch smirked, once again removing those smooth lips from around his straining cock and leaning back, rubbing his jaw briefly. The Exarch’s hips moved involuntarily forward, trying to capture the Ascian’s mouth once more, and he mewled… mewled gods damn it, like a small kitten or some other such pitiful creature. He gritted his teeth to stop further sounds of want escaping but it was too late as he heard Emet-Selch’s deep low chuckle at his naked craving.

“It seems that your body at least knows what it wants, even if you persist in this farcical belief that you’re _better than me_.” Emet-Selch murmured, gold eyes glittering with supressed mirth and delight, and his grin became wider at the hiss that emanated from beneath the hood. The Exarch once again reached for Emet-Selch’s hair, and this time the tug was vicious, drawing a gasp of pain from the smug man’s face. The Exarch shuddered at his own malice, even as he purred at the sound of pain that he had managed to wring from this wretch in front of him. Emet-Selch looked back at him, those gold eyes still twinkling even despite the pain. Damn him and that unutterable smugness, and damn the Exarch for his own weakness and spite. He was nothing, less than nothing, and this inadvisable liaison only served to deepen this small, disgusting feeling within his grubby little soul.

“I do not believe myself better than you Ascian. As you so gleefully noted, I do keep on inviting you back, because only you seem to be able to provide me with the succour I truly desire.” The Exarch sneered, almost as much at himself as at the Ascian kneeling in front of him, and Emet-Selch’s eyes widened and then narrowed at the Exarch’s admission of want, as his wicked grin never once faltered.

“Now take off your clothes and lay yourself atop my desk, on your front. I mean to extract that succour from you ilm by bloody ilm.” The exarch snarled, throwing the Ascian across the floor by his hair even as he drew a leather strap from a row of hooks hanging by the door. 

_Tell me that I'm fucked up, mentally unstable  
Tell me that I care too much about my whole damn fable_

_I just want your body, I don't want your mind..._

It was _bells_ later, and both the Exarch and Emet-Selch were covered in a thin sheen of sweat, naked bodies slapping together and falling apart. Emet-Selch was unable to brace himself as he was slammed into the desk again and again by the force of the Exarch’s violent thrusts, his hands bound behind his back with that leather strap that had been in the Exarch’s hands, lashed so deliciously and achingly against his skin. His mouth was filled with a balled up silken cloth, the Exarch long since nauseated by the Ascian’s constant monologuing, and he dug his fingers into the Ascian’s hips, growling as he continued to pummel Emet-Selch’s tight ass. Emet-Selch turned his head as much as he could, golden eyes mutely asking for more. More what? Lashing? Fucking? Punishment?

The Exarch growled as his gaze roamed across the Emperor’s ruined back – long red welts running across once smooth flesh, a few cases where the skin had been broken by particularly insistent strokes. He winced at what his fury had wrought even as a smaller, more hidden and truthful part of him sang in exhilaration at the marks he had left on his dirty little secret. He looked down between the legs of the Ascian, noting with glee the pile of seed on the floor, evidence of the multiple times that he had brought Emet-Selch to completion with the cruel lashing and then his fingers, massaging his hated lover’s prostate over and over again until he had been a quivering mess of a man – although not a man, the Exarch amended, as if that made his actions any better. Pitiful, disgusting, lecherous old man. There was no excuse for his actions, nothing to be done but finish this farce of a lover’s embrace and send the man away, until the next time he felt his will come undone with the thought of _him_.

He noticed again Emet-Selch’s pitiable stares, and leant forward to pull the cloth from his mouth, strings of drool hanging between the cloth and his deliciously soft lips, the Ascian taking deep breaths and rolling his jaw against the ache that had probably built up over time.

“For an old man your stamina is really quite legendary.” Emet-Selch moaned as the Exarch continued with his punishingly deep strokes. He grunted in reply, and Emet-Selch’s lips twisted in amusement once more.

“Ah, back to non-committal grunting then I see, how very scintillating.” Emet-Selch hummed, and the Exarch fixed him with a glare.

“Careful, or I’ll shove that rag back into your mouth again.” He warned, and the Ascian laughed in true delight. However, after a particularly deep set of strokes, that laughter turned to raw desire again, even as the Exarch felt his desire building, his peak nearing. As if he noticed the more erratic and furious fucking he was receiving, Emet-Selch hummed and squirmed on the desk, trying to meet the Exarch’s desperate thrusts, wanting to milk the pleasure from his unexpectedly perverted paramour.

“Yes my sweet Exarch, take me like the ruler you claim to be.” Emet-Selch demanded, panting in raw need, and those words alone caused the Exarch to tip over the edge, hips surging forth, burying himself deep within the Emperor as he felt his seed splatter the walls of his enemy’s arse, a roar of passion ripped from his lips as his fingers gripped bruisingly into soft flesh, muscles locked in pleasure.

And even as he climbed down from that glorious height, he felt those waves of repulsion, the hatred, the feeling of sickness, not only at what he had wrought upon his enemy, but also at his own perverted imaginings. Sickened that he could do this, that this was what 100 years of isolated loneliness had done to him, he fumbled with the leather strap, releasing Emet-Selch from his binds and stumbled back wearily, his back hitting the wall before he slid down to a crumpled mess on the floor.

Emet-Selch wearily stood up on shaky legs, wincing at the pain in his back, between his legs, in his arms, and looked down at the shaking Exarch, grinning viciously. He rubbed the feeling back into his arms, and gingerly wrapped himself in his robes once more. He opened his mouth, only to see the Exarch look at him with such naked hatred, one hand raised to stop him from saying anything.

“Just go.” He said finally, voice cracking in pain.

“Of course, until next time you call on my services, then.” Emet-Selch said breezily, snapping his fingers and sashaying into a dark purple portal of his making. As soon as he was gone the Exarch started sobbing, great heaving bursts of pain and sorrow ripping forth from his chest, despairing at what he had become whilst sure, certain, that it would not – could not – be changed.

_I don't really want to learn I just want to watch you squirm  
In my palm, relax hiding in the walls don't let go_

_Takes a certain personality, to drive me to thin sanity  
I know my place tastes like blood but I won't let go_


End file.
